The Hybrid
by updatedpenname
Summary: Juno-the hybrid-has been best friends with Dylan, for like, forever. And now this mysterious Marc St. James guy comes and goes out of his way just to keep June away from Dylan. Why is he doing this? What are his intentions? Also, why is June a hybrid?
1. All or Nothing

**CHAPTER 1 – ALL OR NOTHING**

Clutch, gas, shift (neutral to first? Or first to second?), release clutch, I repeated over and over in my head, the mantra offering little comfort and even less direction amid the screeching midday traffic. Aw, fuck this! I don't need a friggin' driver's license anyway.

I walked out of the car, leaving my teacher slightly mystified. I headed over to the nearest Burger King and ate the hell out of my anger away.

"Hey, what's wrong?" It was my best friend and sometimes, only friend, Dylan. He could tell my mood just by the slightest changes in my facial expression. Uncanny, I know.

"The test blew, man. I got pissed and walked out on Mr. Fischer." Then I let out an unrestrained laugh.

Dylan did too. "You probably won't need it anyway." He smiled at me knowingly.

I knew that smile. It means he is up to or has accomplished something. I sighed, and even though I didn't want to know, I asked, "What did you do this time?"

"Well, we're going to be rich, baby!"

My body tensed up. I didn't want to test pilot a prototype of anything he made, not anymore. I lost faith in that sentence a long time ago. I believed in it at first but now, I've just kinda gotten used to it. Dylan was a weird dude. He over thinks things too much. One time, he even challenged Newton's law of gravity.

"Oh relax, I was just kidding. I don't have anything amazing to show you today. I wish I have but, um... I guess what I'm trying to say is that you don't need a license because I'm willing to drive you anywhere, if you'll have me." He said, blushing.

"You want to be my chauffeur?" I understood what he was implying, but refused to acknowledge it. We had a good thing as friends, why ruin it?

"Maybe you didn't get what I meant. I said—"

"I got what you meant, I just.. I can't do us, not now."

"Then when? We've known each other since we were in Pre-K. And I've been in love with you for the last decade."

"Dyl, don't do this to me. You're the only friend I have, I can't lose you. I _don't_ want to lose you."

"Guess what, you might have just lost me." He walked out, pretty much like the way I walked out on my driving teacher.

Wow. Apparently, it's all or nothing. Whatever, he'll get over it.

I walked home alone, contemplating. I knew that when I wake up the next day, Dylan is going to be there with his home-cooked meal. I sat on the rooftop and watched the sun set and stars sparkle. I used to do that all the time, and sometimes I fall asleep outside. Naturally, Dylan was always there to bring me to my room and tuck me in.

But when I woke up the next day on the rooftop, my heart sank. Reality was sinking in. I may just have lost Dylan. I called him a dozen times.

A dozen times, he didn't answer.

I heard someone knocking.

"Hi." It was Dylan, with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"What are you smiling about?"

"You seriously called me for like, a hundred times today. What's up?"

I was flabbergasted. "Okay, what's happening? Did you forget about our conversation yesterday?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I remember it perfectly." He was still smiling. Ugh! I wanted to rip that smile off his face.

"DYLAN! WHAT THE FUCK?" I gave him a look that said, _if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to kill you._

"It was street theater, dude! Remember I've been talking to you about wanting to do that for ages?"

I slapped him. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why didn't you tell me? You asshole!"

"If I did, it wouldn't be authentic! My drama teacher loved your reaction." That slap I gave him didn't wipe the smile off of his freakin' face. Asshole.

I slammed the door in his face.

"June bug! I'm sorry. I got you a present because I knew you'd be pissed."

_Present._ That was the magic word.

When I opened the door, he was kneeling and holding a charm bracelet. "Forgive me? Make me the happiest man in the world?"

I smiled. "Fine, you're off the hook." I held my hand out for him to wear the bracelet on me. "But if you ever do that to me again, I'm going to kill you."

We both laughed.


	2. Newcomer

A note: I inserted a short conversation here from the **mysterious boy** and a dude named **Paul** in _italics_. :D It's in the boy's POV. :)

**CHAPTER 2 – NEWCOMER**

Ever since the word got out that the original manuscript of Madame Bovary by Gustav Flaubert was lost somewhere in a local bookstore here in Manhattan, I've been searching for it every free time I get.

While waiting for Dylan to finish his acting class, I stopped by a bookstore in the corner of East and 57th street. It was unlike any of the other bookstores I've been to. It may not look like much on the outside but when you go in, you could be lost and not find your way out for days. It was heaven to me! Just being inside it was inspiring. The height of the ceiling and the paintings of the cherubs on the walls were breathtaking. It was like a mini-Sistine Chapel in Manhattan.

I was struck with awe.

"Can I help you?" A musical voice behind the counter asked.

I turned to tell him what I was looking for but again, I was struck with more awe. This place was full of amazing surprises. My breath was literally taken away from me. I thought I looked awesome, but when I caught a glimpse of the boy behind the counter and me in a glass panel, next to him, I looked like garbage. I mean, the band t-shirt he was wearing didn't do him justice.

"Is something wrong?" The boy with the face of an angel asked. Man, he looked like he belonged on the walls with the angels.

I took a deep breath and tried to speak. "Huh?" I sounded, and probably looked like I was hyperventilating. "You're so pretty." WTF? I could've died of embarrassment at that very moment.

He then smiled and let out a little chuckle.

I looked down my shoes. "I'm sorry." I stammered, and then gathered the courage to look up again, "It's just that, you take my breath away." I am not thinking straight. Kill me. Kill me now.

I ran out of that place in embarrassment, not noticing that the charm bracelet Dyl gave me fell.

_I noticed her bracelet fall on the floor and wanted to chase after her._

"_Don't she'll be back." Paul said decisively._

I noticed it hours later when Dylan and I were having lunch. I thought about asking him where he bought it and then maybe just buy another one.

"Could you cover me on this one?" Dylan asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Sure. No problem. What's the matter, your parents holding your allowance hostage?" Haha.

"No, I'm just kinda short. Your peace offering gift took a lot out of my wallet." He laughed nervously.

Oh no. It was expensive. "Exactly how much?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll pay you back when I get my allowance next week."

Shit.

I retraced my steps earlier that day. I've only been to the bookstore, and I remember that I was still wearing it when I came in. Oh fuck. I decided to look the bracelet up online and buy another one. I'd rather die than go back to that place.

No wonder Dylan was out of money. The bracelet cost him $1500! That's the kind of money that I don't have. Besides, if I buy another one, it wouldn't have the same value as that of the original. I can't believe I had to go back _there_.

The next morning, I was basically dragging myself to _that place._ I closed my eyes when I went in, hoping that there's another cashier on duty.

"Hello there. I knew you'd be back." Shit. It still was him.

I kept my eyes shut.

"I suppose you're looking for this?" I heard the clashing of the charms on the bracelet.

I didn't move. God, I was such an ass. "Yes, that. Can I please have it?" I reached my hand out, hoping he would place it in my palm.

He wore it around my wrist instead. And I felt his hand graze mine for a fraction of a second.

I felt a slight tingle run down my spine. And I couldn't fight the urge to open my eyes and gaze upon his angelic face for one last time. "Thank you." I whispered, staring into his bottomless hazel eyes.

His eyes have a weird, hypnotizing albeit suffocating effect. I could feel myself gasping for air.

"You know, I had a feeling you might act like that again, that's why I brought this..." He handed me an inhaler.

And I laughed like hell and threw the inhaler back at him. "What the fuck?" That instantly broke the ice.

He laughed too. "What?" Then he smiled, "I didn't want you to run out of here again without finding what you're looking for." Damn, he had a smile that would make angels cry.


	3. Crazy

**CHAPTER 3 – CRAZY**

"My name is Marc St. James… And you're June..?"

"White. Juno White." I smiled. "How'd you know my name?" I smiled, staring into his eyes that were as black as the midnight sky.

He seemed baffled for a split second, but replied, "It was engraved on the charm in your bracelet."

It was? I had no idea. "Oh right." I just nodded along without really looking for the inscription.

"Who's Dylan?" He asked me directly.

How did he know Dylan? I knew I shouldn't be answering his personal questions, but when I get lost in his eyes, it's kind of hard to focus. "He's a very good friend of mine."

All he replied was an uninterested, and kind of condescending, "Oh. I see."

A beat.

"I'm looking for Bram Stoker's _Dracula_."

"You can get that online. Why spend money?"

"That's weird, coming from a bookstore cashier." I smiled. "Normally, that is what I would do but I heard that a copy of the original manuscript is somewhere around here, I kinda wanted it for myself."

"Well then, we better start looking."

We searched for what seemed like an eternity but the manuscript was nowhere to be found, and the time we spent looking for it, it seems like I have told Marc every little detail of my life. I seriously don't know how he does it. At some points, he even finished my sentences. It was like he knew me from somewhere before. Some people might find that freaky, but when I look at him, all of that freaky vibe just goes away.

Also, when I was around him, I felt… _safe_, at peace. For almost eight years since my parents died in a car crash, this was the only time that I felt at ease with someone.

While we were talking, I noticed that it was dark outside. Shit. I missed my art class. "I should probably go." I said, standing up. It was almost 9PM. Time for my Friday night dinner with Dylan.

"Stay."

I was heading for the door but when I heard him utter that word, my body froze. And I instinctively walked back toward him. "What is it?"

"When will I see you again?"

"Well, until we find that manuscript, expect me to be here every single day." I beamed.

"Then I sure hope we don't ever find that book."

I was flying high. Did that handsome boy just tell me that he liked spending time with me? Wow. A stupid grin was plastered across my face as I walked home. Haha. I felt stupid.

As I was walking past a dark alley, a shadow nabbed me deeper into the alley and before I knew it, he flung me across a dumpster.

"What game are you trying to pull now?" The hooded figure asked.

WTF? "I have no idea what you're talking about! Let me go! Let me go or I'll scream!"

I felt him stare me down. "Scream and I'll stab you. Right here. Right now. In the heart."

I gulped.

"Now, answer me Adele!"

I sighed in relief. "Okay, you've got me mistaken for someone else, sir. My name is Juno. I know, it's a stupid, non-girl name but believe me, it _is _my real name."

I felt him press me harder against the wall. "I've had enough of your lies!" And I also felt the knife he had pierce my skin, thankfully not the heart but the abdomen.

FUCK. The cold metal of the knife and the sound of it puncturing my flesh sickened me that I almost threw up, hadn't he put his hand on my mouth. I mustered up the courage to look down, and saw blood gushing out of the wound.

I was notoriously afraid of blood so naturally, I passed out.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital. Ugh. It made me nauseated. The smell of alcohol, disinfectant, old people, sick people, and death. It just makes me feel icky.

I looked around and saw Marc St. James (yes, I like saying his full name) sleeping in a chair beside the bed.

"Marc." I whispered softly.

He didn't move.

"Yo Marc!" That's more like it. Haha.

He jolted up, kinda confused. "Oh, good, you're awake."

"What happened?"

"I was taking out the trash, and I found you bleeding to death."

Huh. "I think I got mugged." Everything was a bit hazy. All I remember was a hooded figure, and that he called me _Adele_.

"Interesting, since nothing was missing on you. Did you remember what your "mugger" looked like?"

I shook my head. "He was wearing a black hoodie." I tried remembering what led to the stabbing but came up with nothing. "He said he'd stab me if I screamed, but I didn't scream."

"Well, everything's fine now."

"No, everything is not fine." I protested. "I didn't scream. Why the hell would he stab me if I didn't scream?" I find that I'm really annoyed.

He chuckled. "You actually believed the word of a criminal? You're crazy."

Maybe I was. I was annoyed not because of the stabbing, but because he didn't fulfil his word. HAHA.

"Rest well now, love. If you need me, I'm just outside."

_Love_. I gotta admit, that sounded so good to my ears. Especially when it came from him. Hmm, Marc was right. I AM crazy.


	4. Illusions

**CHAPTER FOUR – ILLUSIONS**

What was he doing in here with me, anyway? He could have called Dylan so that I'd be out of his hair but he's with me. Here. Protecting me. But protecting me from what?

"Junebug!" Dylan was running out of breath. "I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?"

So he called Dylan. Silly me.

"Well, I am now."

He placed a plastic sunflower in a vase on the coffee table next to me.

I chuckled.

"What? It was the only thing they had at the gift shop." He retorted quickly.

He laughed with me, too but his expression suddenly changed.

"So, who is that boy that brought you here?"

_Boy._ "Marc St. James." I stated matter-of-factly.

"And Marc St. James is?"

"What is with all the questions?"

"Nothing. I just want to thank him for bringing you here."

"You know what, Dyl? Thank him if you want to thank him. I am not going to lie down here and be interrogated like a criminal!" I stood up and headed for the bathroom.

Harsh. I don't know what it is with me.

"Oh-kay." He backed off.

"Sorry Dyl." I whispered from inside the bathroom.

I heard him mumble something before he stepped outside to thank Marc but it wasn't clear.

"Dyl?"

"What is it babe?"

"Let's get out of here. You know how I hate hospitals."

He looked relieved. "Okay. Grab your stuff. I'll take care of the bill."

Marc stepped in as I was packing and said goodbye. His goodbye was brief, his polite cadence was gone. It was as if we barely knew each other.

"Let's grab a cab."

"Home is, like, two blocks away!"

"Yeah, but you just got stabbed, silly!" Dylan and his unfounded concerns.

"I think I'll survive." I smiled.

We walked in silence for half a block.

"Marc tells me you were in the bookstore all day with him before you got mugged in an alley on your way home."

"Yeah, so? Good thing he found me."

"Yeah, and I thank him for that. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I love you too, Dyl." I smiled back. I didn't know what I'd do if I lost him either but I feel awkward telling it to him, I don't know why. With Marc, things come out naturally, no pressure. With Dylan, I don't know. I feel like he is telling me stuff to force something out of me, although I know that his intentions are pure. "I really do."

"You like that Marc person, don't you?" Damn, he sees right through me.

"I think so."

"You are much too amazing for him."

Me? Amazing? "Dyl, have you seen him? He is perfect!"

"Everything you see is just an illusion."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

Dylan was staying the night with me because I needed him to clean my wound. Duh. I cannot stand blood. HAHA.

I took off my shirt and let Dylan do the other things. Being half naked in front of him was no big deal for me. Although I could sense he was weird about me only being in my underwear. He was sweating like a pig on a cold November afternoon.

His eyes were half closed.

"What?" I asked him. "Why are you so uncomfortable? You've seen me naked before."

"That was when we were kids, June!"

"What difference does that make?" I laughed. "Now open your eyes! How are you supposed to clean my wound that way?"

"Shut up and mind your own business!" His eyes still half closed.

"It _is_ my business. It is my wound, in the first place." I insisted. "God, you are so cute."

"Whatever."

"What? It's not like it's the first time you've seen a naked woman, right? You've slept with _what's her face?_"

"Marissa. Not that I like to talk about it." He said, dismissive.

"You never called her back?"

"It wasn't right." It was not that he was avoiding the topic. That was all he had to say. Nothing was left. It just wasn't right. "Put your shirt back on."

"You're done? Seriously?" I didn't feel a thing. "Thanks Dyl." I proceeded to kiss him on the cheek but as he turned around to probably say that it was nothing, our lips touched.

For a tiny fraction of a second, I swear I felt him kiss me back.


	5. More

**CHAPTER FIVE – MORE**

We didn't talk about the kiss ever again. I know that we love each other but nothing past that of a friend.

At times I feel like we could be something more. I feel like he wants more. And God forbid, if he asked for more, I probably would've given in.

I was so fond of Dylan, and he knows me better than I know myself. I always figured that we'd be good together. When I feel like things could really go further between us, he pulls away and I pull away. Maybe that is just the universe telling us that we're really not that good together, or we'd be better off as friends, ad infinitum. I could go on and on enumerating reasons why he and I aren't together.

Maybe it was because the universe had something better planned for me. Though, I have to admit, to come up with something better than Dylan is close to impossible.

If not for Marc St. James.

"Hey. I haven't seen you in a while." Said the cool voice that I've missed hearing.

"I've been preoccupied with stuff."

"Stuff like..?" Why the sudden interest in my life?

"Bestfriend-y stuff. I ask myself sometimes, why aren't Dylan and I together?"

"I ask myself that question too. It's obvious that that boy likes you."

"I know, right?"

"But not as much as I do, June."

"I hate us both sometimes. Our stupid sit—" Upon processing what he just said, I was taken aback. I needed to hear it one more time, just to be sure. "What did you say?"

He handed me an old, dusty book. "I have had it with me all along."

It was the original manuscript that I was looking for.

"I just wanted to get to know you. And for the record, you never fail to surprise me."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Definitely a good thing. Trust me, if you have been around for as long as I have, people lose the ability to surprise me."

I just couldn't help but smile.

He leaned in and paused. I could feel his breath on my lips. "I am going to kiss you now, _Junebug_."

Hadn't he called me Junebug the moment would have been perfect. Everything added up. The perfect book, the perfect guy, the perfect kiss...

The only person in the world who called me Junebug was Dylan and when Marc kissed me, I thought of Dylan.

SICK.


	6. Past

**CHAPTER SIX - PAST**

I hated myself for not knowing what I wanna be and not knowing who I wanna be with. I started reading _Madame Bovary_ to take my mind off things. Time flew by so quickly and by midnight, I was halfway through. As I was turning the page, an old piece of paper fell. And by old, I really mean OLD.

It was a letter of some sort, dated 1861.

_France 1861_

_ My Everdearest Marc,_

_ Forgive me for not writing you sooner. I know you have been worrying_

_ about me. I have been thinking a lot about you too._

_ Sadly, this will be the last letter that you will receive from me. Some _

_ sacrifices have to be made on my part to find out the truth about my father._

_ Those sacrifices include giving you up, my love._

_ I am deeply sorry._

_ Alexandra_

Uh-huh. _Alexandra_. The name haunts me again.

Gulp.

As I flipped through the pages looking for some sort of answer, a picture fell out. It was a picture of someone who looked a lot like Marc with a girl who looked a lot like... ME. Written in the back was "_France, 1858_"

Who was the Marc that the letter was addressed to? I remember Marc having said that he has been around for a long time.

Gulp.

Exactly how long? What the fuuuuck! I thought that reading this book would take my mind off of things. Apparently, it posed a lot more questions than answers.

I went to Marc's, hoping for some answers.

"Hey. Mind explaining these?" I laid everything on the counter.

I expected him to look mortified, but he was calm. But not one word escaped his lips.

"Who are these people? Is this man, you?" I demanded.

I scanned everything on the counter, including an old receipt. I remembered having seen that signature before. I grabbed the receipt, just in case Marc tries to deny it, flipped to the last page of the manuscript and _voila! _The signatures matched!

"Do you care to explain, Marc? Everything is not making sense to me right now. I need answers. I'm going crazy."


End file.
